


Just Apple Juice

by PericulaLudus



Series: Fíli [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Dwalin Is A Softie, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Poor Fíli, Sickfic, Uncle Thorin, Young Fíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PericulaLudus/pseuds/PericulaLudus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A barrel that smelt of a childhood memory he'd rather forget was not Fíli's idea of a good escape. Smelling it all again really made him decide to never touch another apple again. THAT incident had occurred many years ago, when Thorin and Dwalin were babysitting him. </p><p>Won 2nd place in the "Feels for Fíli Fic and Art Mini Contest #4" – Apples</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Apple Juice

“Thanks for putting up with us,” Thorin said.  
“Nae bother,” Dwalin grumbled. He always grumbled, but Fíli knew that he was putting up with Uncle Thorin a lot. They were really good friends. So this was probably mainly about putting up with Fíli.   
Dwalin took the small pack out of Thorin’s hands and put it into the sitting room. Fíli tried to shrug out of his furs as gracefully as his uncle had just done, but his hair clasp got stuck in his hood and then his hood covered his eyes and tucked at his braids and it all ended in one big tangle. With a laugh, Thorin bent down to untangle him and then Dwalin was kneeling in front of him to take off his boots. Fíli did not even put up a little token protest, because despite being a big lad and perfectly capable of dressing and undressing himself, he was quite glad he did not have to fumble with those accursed laces himself.   
“How’s wee Kíli then?” asked Dwalin.  
“Not bad,” Thorin said, and Fíli thought that was not quite the truth because Kíli had really been crying a lot today. “He will be fine. Dís just wants us out of the house to try and keep Fíli from catching that bug as well. And I’m not too keen on an upset stomach myself."  
Dwalin laughed so loud the little house seemed to quiver.   
“A truly unknown occurrence,” he said and Fíli silently agreed because he could not imagine Thorin ever being as sick and miserable as Kíli had been. “He’ll be right as rain in no time at all. He’ll be driving Dís to distraction soon, the little rascal.”  
Fíli was starting to feel a little annoyed at the adults talking over his head, but then Dwalin addressed him directly: “Look who was hiding under all those furs! Well, good evening, Fíli! How are you on this fine night?”  
Fíli remembered his manners and performed a bow that was so low it almost made him topple over, but he caught himself just in time and was rather proud of that feat.   
“Good evening, Mister Dwalin! I’m very well,” he piped up and then for good measure added. “How are you today?”  
“All the better for seeing you, lad,” Dwalin said and it still sounded grumbly. “Balin is away for a few days, so it’s just us three here.”  
Fíli could not suppress a sigh of relief. Dwalin noticed immediately and asked: “What was that, lad? You hold a grudge against my brother?”  
Fíli shifted a little uncomfortably, but then admitted, “I haven’t practiced my runes and he wouldn’t be happy…”  
Dwalin laughed again and even Thorin’s mouth seemed to twitch a little. Fíli knew his mum certainly would not find his admission funny, but Dwalin just patted him on the back.  
“You’re just like me, lad. Never liked writing and counting and all that very much. Don’t let that old bampot keep you from doing more important things.”  
“Don’t encourage him…” Thorin muttered, but Fíli nodded eagerly and Dwalin laughed again. Then he picked Fíli up and slung him across his shoulder. Fíli giggled. Dwalin was so big, even bigger than Uncle Thorin. This was great! If Fíli stretched just a little, he could touch the ceiling from up here.   
They had dinner around the big table. Fortunately, Dís had packed some food for them and Fíli was really thankful for that, because he had tasted Dwalin’s cooking before and it was even worse than Thorin’s if that was even possible. So he was happy he got to keep all his teeth and actually had something tasty in his stomach. Dwalin asked him about is sword practice and Fíli gave him a very detailed account of all the latest moves he had been practicing. He knew that Dwalin was a great warrior and was looking forward to giving him a little demonstration of his skills after dinner.   
When everyone had emptied their bowls, they carried the dishes into the kitchen. Fíli felt very important. Thorin and Dwalin had listened to his stories and they had asked him questions and now they let him carry his own dishes without reminding him not to drop them. They were just three warriors spending the evening together and nobody reminded Fíli that he was a little bit younger than the others.   
Thorin washed the dishes. Dwalin dried them and put them away. And Fíli had a wet rag handed to him to go and wipe the table. When he returned to the kitchen, the other two had completed their tasks and were bent over a wooden barrel that lay on a low stand in the corner. Dwalin turned the small tap near the bottom of the barrel and poured a small measure of yellow liquid into a mug.   
“Have a look at that, isn’t that just the best you have ever smelled?” Dwalin asked, holding out the mug to Thorin.  
Thorin sniffed and nodded his head appreciatively. “Seems to be a particularly fine one this year. Which apples did you use?”  
“Talked Mjothvitnir into giving me a big sack full of his, the big green ones, you know. Cost me a fair bit, but well worth it! Sweet and tangy, just perfect.”  
“Delicious apples. I’d quite fancy a mug of that juice!”  
“Give it a few more weeks, still fermenting… should be ready around Yule…”  
Fíli agreed with Thorin. He liked apples and he certainly would not mind a glass of apple juice! Instead he got a mug of ginger beer. He made a face at that, but Thorin shot him a warning glance and Fíli dutifully thanked their host for his drink. Dwalin filled two large tankards with ale and they marched back into the living room.   
“I wanted to have a word about those repairs to the northern wall,” Thorin said.   
“Can I show you my sword routine now?” Fíli asked.   
Thorin closed his eyes briefly before turning to him.  
“Do not interrupt when adults are speaking, Fíli. You know that!”  
Fíli did know that. But he was really eager to show Dwalin that new move he had learned. He had managed to disarm both Loni and Jari! And Jari was much bigger than him. But he understood. They were not at home here. And Thorin wanted to look good in front of his friend. And Fíli was his heir. So he had to look good as well. He had to remember his manners as mummy always said.   
“Yes, Uncle,” he said feeling a bit upset at having embarrassed Thorin.   
“There’s a good lad.”  
“We’ll be with you in a minute. Let Thorin tell me about those repairs. That’s essential for our defences. Why don’t you go and play in front of the fire?”  
Great, now they were treating him like a little baby again. The two grown-ups were soon engrossed in a discussion of guards’ rounds and all sorts of boring things. Dreadfully boring. Fíli sat down on the rug in front of the hearth and took a sip of his ginger beer, trying to look like a big warrior who was enjoying a well-earned ale after a big battle. The ginger beer stung his mouth. He did not like the sharp taste.  
They were still talking. Finally, Fíli pulled out his toy warriors and staged a battle in front of the fire. He was Thorin, leading the dwarven forces into battle. He went straight for the orc captain and cut off his head with one big swish of his sword. Somehow it was not all that exciting today. He missed Kíli. Usually, Kíli would play Dwalin and he would follow him into battle and then he would admire Fíli for his courage and then he would get very excited when he killed the orc captain. Now there was nobody to get excited about his heroic deeds. It was boring.   
He decided to down his entire ginger beer in one go. He had seen Dwalin do that with a tankard of ale. The other dwarves in the tavern had cheered him on. Nobody cheered for Fíli. He was just left with a stinging mouth. Bah. He knew why he did not like ginger beer! He needed some water to get rid of the strange feeling. Nobody paid attention to him. They were now bent over a map. Fíli went into the kitchen and looked for a jug of water somewhere.  
There was no water. But there was that barrel of apple juice in the corner. That would do the trick. He felt he deserved some apple juice. For being ignored and for being treated like a little baby and for being forced to drink ginger beer. Some nice, sweet juice would be perfect.  
He opened the little tap and carefully filled his mug. He did not even spill anything. The juice had a bit of a strange smell, but maybe that was just because of the special apples Dwalin had mentioned.   
Settled back on the rug, Fíli took an experimental sip. It was not as sweet as he had expected, but very fruity. There were little bubbles in the juice and they tickled his tongue in a funny way. He experimentally dipped his tongue into the mug. It was a strange feeling, like there were lots of little fish in the juice. He decided he liked it and took another big gulp.  
They were still discussing their map. Boring. Fíli took a piece of wood out of the basket next to the fireplace. That was the wall. He put his dwarven warriors on top of it. He would need throwing axes and archers. Thorin was really good with a bow. He defended the town. And when the Orcs were all panicky and running away, Dwalin jumped over the wall and lead a charge of the fiercest warriors. The Orcs tried to run faster, but they got all tangled up in the fur of the rug and then they stumbled and then Dwalin’s army was upon them and the Orcs shrieked as they were all killed.   
“Shhh, we are trying to focus here!”  
Apparently the Orcs had shrieked a bit too loudly. Fíli drank some more of his apple juice. He was feeling all warm and tingly now. The battle had been really exciting. His little mug was empty again. And Dwalin and Thorin still did not show any signs of wanting to see his sword display any time soon. They did not even pay attention to him when he got up to get himself some more juice. Only when he ran into a chair and painfully banged his shin, did Thorin look up and casually asked if he was all right. Fíli just grumbled something. He did not need to be shushed twice.   
He did not fare so well when he filled his cup this time. A bit of the juice splattered on the floor.   
Fíli grabbed his sword and polished it. It did not really need polishing. It was just a wooden sword after all. Mummy said he was too young for a real sword. Thorin would not even let him hold his sword. He said it was too heavy for him. Fíli had tried once when nobody was watching and he had nearly dropped it, so he had stopped asking after that. But sitting by the fire with a drink and his sword felt very much like being a warrior. He could tell stories of his great victories and everybody would listen in awe. Like the time when he had disarmed Jari. Jari who was as big as an Orc and just as mean. But nobody was listening. So Fíli just polished his sword and sipped his juice.   
Finally, Thorin leaned back in his chair and Dwalin got up to refill their tankards. When he came back into the room, he was also clutching a large wooden spoon. Setting down the drinks on the table, he turned to face Fíli and bowed.  
“Would you do me the honour of crossing blades with me, Mister Fíli?”  
Fíli scrambled to his feet, almost tripping himself with his sword. He looked critically upon the spoon in Dwalin’s hand. That was a bit demeaning. Fighting a dwarf armed with a spoon. Dwalin apparently understood the source of his hesitation.  
“It’s a poor craftsman who blames his tools. A real warrior can defend himself with any weapon. A spoon can be very powerful in the right hands,” he said flexing his tattooed fingers. “And you don’t doubt that these are the right hands, do you, lad?”  
Dwalin’s hands were probably as big as a bear’s paws. And he was a great warrior. So Fíli thought that it was probably pretty good that Dwalin wanted to spar with him, even if he was using a spoon.  
They took their positions, but Fíli had trouble focussing on his sword. He blinked his eyes rapidly. He had to do well now. Thorin was watching. He would not disappoint Thorin.   
“Ready when you are,” said Dwalin. Fíli blinked again. His sword seemed to wobble. That was no good. He had to focus.   
He moved. There was the sound of wood against wood and then his sword clattered to the floor. No! Fíli stared at his weapon in disbelief. He did not even recall letting go of it.   
“Not to worry, lad,” Dwalin said with a smile and handed him his sword. “I must have caught you unawares.”  
Fíli tried to gather himself and they took their positions again. He knew he could do it. He had practiced so hard. He was good at this! He shook his head to get rid of the fuzzy feeling that had settled between his ears, but it was no good. The tip of his sword seemed to waver. He could not even seem to find Dwalin’s spoon with his blade, and when their weapons finally connected, the force of it knocked him nearly off his feet. In no time at all, his sword was at his feet again.   
He bent down to pick it up and nearly fell on his face. His ears were burning now.   
“I did it, I swear I did. I disarmed Loni and even Jari and he’s like really big! I promise, Uncle, I did it!” Fíli said.   
“I’m sure you did”, answered Thorin with that terrible smile, the smile that said that he was just a stupid little dwarfling and was not to be taken seriously. Fíli hated that smile.  
He switched his sword to his left hand for their third round. He would show them. He was a good fighter and he wanted a real sword for his next birthday like Thorin had promised and he had the opportunity to spar with a real warrior tonight and he could show his uncle and his best friend that he was ready to fight with a real weapon and that he was good and that Thorin could be proud of him and he would not make a mess of it!  
His left arm did not cooperate any better than his right had. Nothing seemed to work.  
“You are doing it too fast!” he accused Dwalin and stomped his foot.  
“Fíli,” Thorin cried. “He was hardly moving! Dwalin won and you have no reason to take that tone with him! It seems you have some more work to do in the practice yard.”  
He had disappointed Thorin and embarrassed himself in front of Dwalin and everything was horrible now. He was not a warrior; he was just a silly little dwarfling. On top of it all, he could feel tears gathering in his eyes. He would not cry now. He was not a baby!   
“A toast to our aspiring warrior,” Dwalin proposed, then noticing that Fíli’s cup was empty, he pointed him in the direction of the kitchen. “Run along and get yourself another drink now!”  
Fíli did so and this time apple juice splashed everywhere, but he did not care. This was so humiliating!   
They all raised their drinks and Thorin solemnly declared, “May our defences always hold fast, our aim be true and our arms strong. Let us drink to a future full of bright young warriors like my beloved nephew and heir. To your health!”  
“And to yours,” Dwalin and Fíli echoed and all three drank deeply.   
Dwalin went to get more ale and Fíli curled up in the large armchair Balin usually sat in. At least Thorin did not seem to be too mad at him. But he still felt dreadful about the entire debacle. He actually felt really dizzy and his stomach was churning. He just sat there for a long time and felt sorry for himself. This entire evening had been a disaster.   
The grown-ups talked some more and then they started to sing. The slow, sad song about the fall of Erebor. Fíli really liked that song. He loved how their deep voices mingled, but when he tried to look from his uncle to Dwalin, it felt like his eyes were stuck and his vision did not turn as quickly as his head. It was like his eyes were swimming in honey. It was a very peculiar feeling and not one that Fíli liked.   
The two men pensively smoked their pipes and all was silent for a while. All except Fíli’s stomach. In there, it felt like the apple juice was having a party with his dinner. He did not feel good at all. This was worse than the burn of humiliation. He was really feeling poorly now. With a sigh and a small burp, Fíli slid of the armchair and padded over to his uncle’s side, swaying as he went.   
“Uncle Thorin,” he said in a small voice, tugging his uncle’s sleeve and trying to suppress another burp, “I don’t feel so well.”  
Thorin, who had been about to nod off, stirred at that.   
“What’s that, little warrior, are you getting tired?” he asked and grabbed Fíli around the waist to swing him high into the air above his chair.   
Fíli wanted to answer, he wanted to tell his uncle to set him down, but he could not. Instead he felt another burp and to his horror it was not just a burp, it was his dinner and the apple juice, and everything burst from his mouth and dribbled down his chin and onto Thorin’s tunic.   
Fíli froze, his eyes wide, and so did Thorin, still holding him in the air and staring at his nephew who had just thrown up on him.   
Then Fíli wailed. He could not stop himself and he did not want to stop himself. This was terrible. He was still feeling dreadful and now this… this had happened and it was terrible. Thorin would never forgive him. And his stomach still hurt. And he felt like he was going to be sick again. Then he was taken out of Thorin’s hands and Dwalin’s voice rumbled: “You might want ta take that off.”  
Fíli just cried. He cried so much that even more of the apple juice came up again. But by that time he was once again sitting in Balin’s armchair and had a bucket between his legs, so at least it was not as bad as the previous time. A cup of water appeared in front of him.  
“Here you are, rinse your mouth, lad.”  
Fíli just cried. He did not want to be sick. He did not want to be here. He did not want Dwalin. He wanted his mummy. He wanted to curl up in his bed with Kíli next to him. He wanted to be well. And most of all, he did not want to be the one who had just been sick all over his uncle. Thorin had not even said anything. He must be so angry.   
Then Thorin was standing in front of him wearing nothing but his undergarments.   
Fíli cowered behind his bucket and tried to just disappear in the big cushions. But it was no use. Then Thorin was kneeling next to the armchair and stroking his hair.  
“Shhh, little one. You’re all right… shhh, Fíli… I’ve got you, my treasure, shhh…”  
Fíli cried a little more. But Thorin just continued to caress him and did not tire of assuring him that he was all right. His uncle smelled like ale and smoke, but he also smelled like home. Durin braids in dark hair. It was almost like being at home. After a while, Fíli hiccupped and stopped crying. He looked up at his uncle timidly.  
“I’m sorry, Uncle Thorin. I didn’t mean to… Please don’t be angry any more,” he whispered hoarsely.  
Thorin looked at him with great fondness and a slow smile spread across his face.  
“Oh Fíli, I’m not angry with you. I’m so, so sorry. I should have noticed you were unwell! What happened?”  
“My tummy hurt and then my eyes were all funny and then I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t and…” Fíli trailed off, sniffling a little, partially out of embarrassment and partially because he was relieved that Thorin was not mad at him.   
At that, Thorin reached out and gingerly picked him up, careful to not upset the bucket, to cradle him against his shoulder. He stroked Fíli’s back softly and when he spoke, his voice seemed to vibrate through his entire body. He continued to reassure Fíli until he had quietened down again.   
Fíli snuggled up against his uncle’s neck and breathed deeply. He was safe. He was with Thorin. Thorin would fix everything. Thorin would make it all good. Thorin would make all of this go away.   
The cup was offered to him again, and this time he took it and rinsed his mouth and he felt a little better for it. Thorin settled him back in Balin’s armchair and draped a woollen blanket over him, careful not to cover the bucket that had already been emptied and cleaned. Once he was sitting comfortably, Thorin straightened and went to stand next to Dwalin.   
“Dís is going to have our heads,” he whispered urgently.  
“Aye.”  
“We were supposed to have him over here so he would not catch that bug from Kíli!”  
“Aye.”  
“We need to do something! We need to make sure he gets better!”  
“Aye.”  
Thorin punched his stoic friend in the arm, “You are not helping! What do we do? What does one do with… you know, a sick dwarfling?”  
“How am I supposed to know? He’s your sister-son!”  
“I don’t know… Dís handles these sort of… incidents…”  
“Well, what does Dís do? What has she been doing with Kíli?”  
“She…” Thorin frowned, then his face lit up. “She has been giving him a hot water bottle for his stomach ache.”  
It was Dwalin’s turn to frown. “Now we don’t have one of those. Don’t really have anything you could put warm water in.”  
“Oh you certainly do”, Thorin interrupted. “We could just use a tea pot, couldn’t we? That’s for hot water. We could just…”  
He seemed to realise what he was saying when he caught Dwalin’s sceptical look. He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, nonsense. Forget I said that. I’m not thinking straight… accursed ale…”  
Dwalin chuckled. “Ever the light-weight, Thorin. Some things never change…” he teased.  
Thorin drew himself up to his full height, looked at his friend sternly and with all the authority he could muster said, “Now is not the time for this. Our first priority is to aid my nephew!”  
The usual imposing effect was made slightly less impressive by his lack of outer garments.   
“Actually, you have given me an idea”, Dwalin said. “A chamomile infusion! That is supposed to settle an upset stomach!”  
Thorin went to sit with Fíli again and reported that Dwalin was making him a cup of tea. Judging by the sounds emanating from the kitchen, every single cupboard door or drawer was yanked open hurriedly and judging by the profuse swearing, Dwalin was not having too much luck with his quest. After much clanging and banging and language that Fíli was sure he was neither supposed to hear nor to repeat, Dwalin emerged from the kitchen triumphantly, clutching a steaming cup.  
Thorin was telling him a story, was telling him about the talking ravens of Erebor. Fíli had heard it all before, but it was good, and it was comforting, and between the calming tea, his uncle’s low voice and the warmth of the blanket, he grew very tired. He just wanted to sleep. When he woke up, he would be all better and that would be good.   
“Ginger!” Dwalin said suddenly. “I knew it. Ginger is what you are supposed to have for an upset stomach!”  
He got to his feet and made to bustle away, but Thorin held up a hand to stop him.  
“Fíli does not like ginger. It’s no use. He would never keep it down.”  
Fíli agreed silently. Just hearing the word made him shiver and destroyed the nice comfortable cocoon of warmth and contentment he had been in.  
“But he’s been drinking it all evening”, Dwalin said, perplexed. “I’ve seen him go for refills time and again. He’s had loads of ginger beer!”  
Thorin turned to look Fíli in the eye, his brows drawn together in a frown, considering.   
“That’s not right, is it, Fíli? You don’t like it. You almost turned down the first one... What have you been drinking??”  
“Just apple juice,” Fíli answered. It had been there, after all. And nobody had said that he could not have it. It was so much better than ginger beer! He had liked that apple juice.  
“Apple juice,” Thorin repeated.  
“Yes, just apple juice,” Fíli confirmed. “I like apple juice!”  
“There is no apple juice,” Dwalin said.  
“It’s right there, in that big barrel, in the corner of the kitchen. It’s really good, it’s…”  
“APPLE WINE,” Thorin and Dwalin said in unison. They looked at each other, then stared at Fíli. Speechless.   
Fíli did not notice. Fíli did not care. He had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. His tummy was hurting again. And suddenly, suddenly he had to… he struggled to get up, but found himself tangled in the blanket. He was not… He had to… He finally managed to free himself and laboriously manoeuvred himself off the oversized chair. He was on his feet before either of the adults had grasped what he was doing. He had to get out. He had to… He was halfway across the room when there was a tell-tale warm sensation at his rear. He could not… He had to… Move. Get out of the room. He could feel it run down the back of his legs now. It was too late. He could tell. And he could smell it. And he could tell by Thorin’s face that he could smell it too.   
“Apple wine. A powerful laxative,” Dwalin said laconically.   
Fíli stood rooted to the spot as if maybe, if he did not move, nobody would notice and it would all be fine. Of course that did not work. They could see and they could smell. This would not just go away.  
Thorin had turned distinctively green. A facial colour like that should not even be possible. Not on a healthy, fully grown dwarf. His eyes started to water and he swallowed heavily. He hesitated. Then Dwalin picked up the still unmoving Fíli and with a murmured excuse, Thorin dashed out of the door.   
“No, no, no, no!” Fíli tried to bat Dwalin’s hands away. “Don’t, you’ll get yourself all dirty, no!”  
“Hush, laddie, all that can be washed out. Let’s make you comfortable.”  
Fíli just let it happen. He was still feeling dizzy and confused and he was exhausted. He let Dwalin strip him and wash him like a little baby. He had no energy left to protest. Dwalin was humming to himself, and the low sound was calming and comforting. Fíli let himself relax a little as warm water enveloped his body. It was only when Dwalin gently towelled him dry, that he emerged from his reverie once more.   
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  
“Don’t be, lad. Nothing you could’ve done,” Dwalin’s low grumble did not sound threatening at all as he carefully dried Fíli’s legs.   
“I… I was… I couldn’t stop it…”  
“You can’t always control your body.”  
“I just… like a baby who needs nappies.” Fíli hung his head in shame. “And now you… I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t you worry. This is not the first time I have done this for somebody, so don’t you worry none.”  
“It’s not?”  
“No… You know my uncle Gróin, don’t you? You know how he’s a healer? Well, when I was young—not quite as young as you are, but very young—there was a big war.”  
“The war against the Orcs.” Fíli whispered it. Nobody talked much about that; it seemed to make all the grown-ups sad even though the dwarves had won.  
“Aye, that one. Well, in that war there were never enough healers. So I was helping Gróin take care of the wounded. Many warriors got hurt in that war. And when your body gets hurt, you are not always able to control it as you normally would.”  
“So you’ve… you’ve done this for warriors?”  
“Aye, some really great ones as well. It’s not a sign of weakness to get hurt or to get sick, Fíli, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”  
Fíli considered that for a moment. His thinking was still a bit slow, but he thought that Dwalin was probably a good judge of what was weak and what was not. Because Dwalin was certainly not weak. And if he said that even great warriors had… had that problem…   
“But Thorin…”  
“Don’t you worry yourself about Thorin. Thorin has just gone out to get some more wood for the fire.”  
Fíli was sure there was still an entire basket full of wood for the fire.   
“He hasn’t,” he protested. “He was all… greenish.”  
Dwalin chuckled at that: “Well, truth be told, laddie, your Uncle Thorin, he is a great warrior, an excellent smith and a trusted leader, but he certainly is no healer. He is not very good with these… things. Certainly not when he’s had a drink or two.”  
That reminded Fíli of something else. “I was not supposed to drink that apple juice, was I?”  
Dwalin chuckled again: “No, you were not. It’s no apple juice, it’s apple wine.”  
“Is that… bad?”  
“It’s good, just not for somebody your age. It’s a pretty strong drink for somebody your size. Apple wine is for grown-ups.”  
“I didn’t know…”  
“I’m sure you’ll remember now. You are now officially drunk for the very first time.”  
“Like you and Thorin in the tavern?”  
Dwalin laughed his full booming laugh. “Just like that!”  
Fíli was perplexed. They always seemed to have fun at the tavern. But this was not fun, not at all! He felt terrible! Why would they do that when they knew that a drink like apple wine could make you feels so bad? His confusion must have shown on his face, for Dwalin stroked his head and said:   
“You will understand in time… For now just remember to stay away from apple wine!”  
“I will,” Fíli said emphatically. “I will never have apple wine again. And I won’t drink apple juice either. And I won’t even eat an apple again. Never!”

When Thorin returned, still wearing only his undergarments, looking rather sheepish and clutching a basket full of freshly-split wood, he found a clean and content dwarfling on the settee, dressed in a nightshirt and wrapped in a blanket, asleep in the arms of his fiercest warrior, now also only wearing his undergarments, who glanced down at the child fondly.   
“Suits you. You should find somebody who’s willing to bear you an heir,” Thorin said and immediately cursed himself for his lack of tact. He was truly not at his best tonight. Dwalin snarled up at him, but did not say a word until he had carefully laid Fíli down and gotten up himself. He took a few steps back before he answered:  
“Like you, eh? Good thing you found somebody to handle nappy changes and spit up as well.”  
Thorin clenched his jaw, looking down at his peacefully sleeping sister-son. He had neglected his duties in a most shameful manner.   
“I apologise for my behaviour,” he said. “I owe you my thanks for your quick and decisive actions.”  
Dwalin gave him a long look, and then nodded slowly.   
“I will always be there to take care of Fíli –and Kíli– when you can’t, Thorin. Don’t mock me for it.”  
Thorin bowed his head at that. For several minutes they stood in silence.   
“So…” Dwalin said slowly. “His first drunken adventure.”  
“More of a misadventure.”  
“He seems to have a higher tolerance for alcohol than you do.”  
“He is a child!”  
“Still…”  
“Dís will really have our heads for this. If we are lucky. She can certainly think of worse things to do to us...”  
Silence descended once more as they both contemplated the dreadful revenge Dís was likely to take on them for corrupting her eldest son. They had failed, quite miserably, in guarding a single child inside a house for a single evening. She would not be impressed.   
“She does not have to know,” Dwalin finally said. “Fíli is deeply ashamed of what has happened… he won’t tell…”  
A sigh of relief escaped Thorin.  
“This shall remain our secret then. For Fíli’s sake as much as our own. Let’s not speak of this again… though I doubt I shall ever forget this night…”

A few days later, Kíli had made a full recovery and Fíli was allowed to return home. He was glad of that. It had been fun to stay at Dwalin’s house and to spend so much time with Thorin, but he had never been separated from his mother for that long, and he had really missed his brother as well. He was full of joy as he bounded down the street and raced straight into his mother’s arms. She hugged him tightly and kissed him on the forehead, but Fíli could not wait to tell her all about his adventures.   
“We went fishing, and I caught a fish thaaaaaat big! And Mister Dwalin tells the best stories! His stories are really funny! And I got to sleep on the settee all on my own! And we sparred every night! And yesterday I disarmed Dwalin! And Uncle Thorin said I would be a really great warrior, he really said that, mummy! And then he messed up my braids and I had that big tangle in my hair! Oh, it was wonderful, mummy!”  
Dís smiled at his enthusiasm. Fíli did not even stop for breath, he just kept listing his many little adventures, and Dís was relieved to see him not just safe and sound, but also well-entertained.   
Eventually, Fíli reached the end of his tale.   
“But mummy,” he added. “I’m never ever eating another apple!”  
“Why’s that, my gem?” Dís asked.  
“I had this apple juice. But it wasn’t apple juice. But it was really good. And then it wasn’t good and then it made me feel all strange and then I was drunk, mummy. I was really drunk!”  
Dís’ shout could be heard across half the town.  
“Thorin!!” she bellowed, “In here, right now!!”


End file.
